You Can't Catch Me by Becca Ann

happened on the Disneyland tea cups. So be nice, don’t hurt her, or the story is making the news.

8
Ten-Second Mood Killer
     
    I jog up to the field where practice is being held a little late because I have to wait to dress until everybody leaves. I wonder if locker rooms will change in the future. I have a dream that one day self-conscious teenagers will be able to dress in privacy.
    Coach Fox watches my approach, smiling that sweet grin when I step in line with everyone else.
    “Hi runners,” she starts off. My eyes fall to the stopwatch in her hand as she nervously fiddles with it. If I didn’t notice, I never would’ve thought she was worried at all. “I’m glad everyone could show up. I’ve got a bit of an announcement.”
    “They’ve finally ordered a coach uniform big enough,” Jamal guesses next to me, his eyes amused at Coach’s dressy attire. I grit my teeth and give one good hard elbow to his ribs. It’s not enough that most everyone on the team has completely judged Coach’s abilities because she’s a bit round in the middle, now my buds are joining in on it. A few snickers go through the team, and I figure more comments are being made. I mentally take note of everyone who isn’t laughing and add them to my “you’re all right” list.
    Coach Fox lets go of her stopwatch, letting it dangle back over her large chest. “I’ve watched you for the past few practices, and I’m impressed with your talent. But I think there is room for improvement.”
    Drake shoots his hand in the air, “Oh, I know! Run faster?”
    A wave of laughter goes over the team. Coach humors him by letting out a chuckle as well.
    “That’s the goal, yes. Anyone want to take a guess on how we do that?”
    “Jump on Drake or Silverman’s back and hitch a ride?” Hadley jokes, and I’m flattered for less than a second because then Bridget pipes up.
    “You’d be better off hitching a ride with me this year.” She laughs, and a few other girls agree with her. I agree, too—Bridget has been outrunning me so far—but that doesn’t mean it stings any less.
    My shoulders slump as I watch the girl’s team—them and their barely-there Sharpies, long legs, and flat stomachs. I used to feel like their queen, and now I don’t even feel like I belong in the same kingdom.
    Coach watches the joking around with thoughtful eyes. That is another thing that’s massively different than last year—Coach Juniper never let us talk. Coach Fox seems to prefer observing, like we’re a bunch of monkeys, and she’s Jane Goodall.
    “Let me ask you all a question,” she says, stepping into a pace in front of us. “Raise your hand if you think you’re the best in your particular event.”
    “In the state?” Drake asks, though his hand is already up in the air.
    Coach laughs, but shakes her head. “How about in Crest Hills? Based on the last few weeks, who thinks they could outrun everyone here?”
    Almost all hands go into the air. I look down the line, surprised at the response. In fact, slowly… the few hands that didn’t go up start to, almost as if they aren’t sure if this is a test or not. I feel the peer pressure, and though I know I can’t outrun anybody with these chest balloons, I end up sticking my hand in the air as well.
    “Okay,” she says, continuing her pacing. “If I told you that you had to outrun someone to get on the team, who’d be willing to take that chance?”
    Silence replaces all our normal laughter and nonsense as everyone’s stomach—mine included—falls out of their butts and onto the hot track with a flump.
    “Huh?” Hadley says, her gum tumbling clean out of her mouth. I get it… we were all told that once you made it as a freshman, you were on the team for as long as you wanted.
    The coach smiles, just as sweetly and innocently as before. I try to hate it, but I can’t. She’s like Poison Ivy and her love spell lips.
    “Any takers?” she asks. I exchange glances with Bridget down